


In Sickness and In Health

by JJJunky



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJunky/pseuds/JJJunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When sickness strikes, Mal is willing to sacrifice himself for the ship. Not everyone is willing to le him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and In Health

 

In Sickness and In Health  
By JJJunky

 

Malcolm Reynolds wearily trudged through the swamp. A stinging sensation on his neck brought his right hand up to swat at the bug plunging its stinger into his flesh. The flattened carcass stayed glued to his skin under a heavy coating of perspiration. His slow pace was partially due to the obstacles inherit to such an environment, and partially to the sweat covering every inch of his body. He felt, and was certain he looked, as though he had just stepped out of a swimming pool. He wasn't sure if he could blame his condition on the heat, or if he had been infected.

An old friend from the war had asked Mal to meet him in Green Briar. It was the only surviving settlement on this world. Even with terra-forming, ninety-five percent of the surface was swamp. Life on the border planets wasn't easy as a general rule. Here, it was nearly impossible.

Always cautious, even of perceived friends, Mal had ordered Wash to land _Serenity_ a short way from the rendezvous point. When Mal finally found Ruben at the edge of town, the man was barely alive. Disease had ravaged the village, leaving half its population dead. The other half was dying.

As he traversed the two miles back to his boat, Mal had begun to feel increasingly ill. At first, he had blamed it on the humidity. But as he stopped to empty his stomach for a second time, he knew he had contracted the malady that was killing the citizens of Green Brier. The only thought keeping him on his feet was to enlighten his crew to the danger. He hated putting them in jeopardy with the proximity necessary to divulge his discovery. However, he knew his people. They would not leave without trying to find him. The search would take them to the city that was fast becoming a graveyard, where all they would find was corpses, and their own deaths. With any luck, Mal could warn them from a safe distance – safe for them.

"Cap'n, welcome back."

Mal hadn't realized he had reached his destination until he heard Kaylee's cheerful greeting. Staggering to a stop, he blurrily regarded the smiling face of his engineer. Even knowing death was waiting around the corner for him, her lilting voice lifted his spirits.

"Cap'n, are you all right?"

When she took a step towards him, Mal hastily stumbled back and put up his hands. "Kaylee, stay away from me."

"What's wrong?" Kaylee ignored her superior's order and moved closer. "Should I get Simon?"

"No" When she took another step, Mal corrected, "Yes, yes get Simon and Zoe too."

His wobbling legs threatening to dump him into the mucky water, Mal crossed to lean against a snarled tree. Normally, he would worry about the deadly snakes and insects calling the plant home. In his present situation, after what he had seen in the settlement, a quick death by a poisonous reptile might be more preferable.

"Sir, is there something wrong?"

Zoe's question drew his attention, making him focus. He scrambled backwards when he saw her walking in his direction. "Stop, don't come any closer." The years of obeying his every order during the war paid off now.

"Sir, you look sick," Zoe protested.

"I am sick," agreed Mal. Seeing the rest of his crew stepping out of the cargo hold, he explained, "There's a plague in the village. Half the population is already dead. The other half is displaying symptoms."

Simon turned to re-enter the ship. "I'll get my kit."

"No." The croaked command was barely audible. Swallowing against the daggers stabbing his throat, Mal said, "There's nothing you can do for them. Just as there's nothing you can do for me."

"What are you saying, sir?" Zoe suspiciously demanded.

The arm pressed against the tree shook violently, threatening to dump Mal on the ground. "You're in command now, Zoe. Take _Serenity_ and get the _guay_ out of here. _Dong ma_?"

"We're not leaving you behind, Cap'n." Kaylee looked at the others seeking confirmation.

"Doctor, tell them," Mal pleaded.

"Tell them what?" Simon held his hands up and shrugged his shoulders. "I can see you're ill, but unless you let me examine you, I won't know if it's the plague, malaria, or a simple cold."

" _Go se_ , it ain't no cold. I saw the dead and the dying."

"That's enough for me." Jayne walked up the ramp into the ship. "Let's get out of here."

"We're not leavin' the Cap'n." Kaylee repeated forcefully, her imploring face turned to Zoe.

Hands on her hips, Zoe nodded agreement. "No, we're not."

"Yes, you are," gasped Mal, his opposition lacking the vehemence of his engineer and second-in-command.

"Captain," Simon appealed, "let me examine you."

"Why, so you can get sick and die too?" Mal's tone softened as he indicated the cowering young girl at the edge of the ramp. "Who'll take care of your sister then?"

Zoe's voice cracked. "We can't just leave you, sir."

"Yes, you can."

"If this is an airborne virus, it's already too late," disclosed Simon. "We're already infected."

Realizing death didn't scare him as much as dying alone, Mal desperately wanted to grab the ring Simon was offering him. However, he had been a leader for too long. He wouldn't risk the lives of his crew to make things easier for himself. "We can't take the chance you might already be infected. It's equally possible you might not be. Either way, its best ya leave without me."

"If the disease is spread through direct contact, all we have to do is isolate you from the rest of us," Simon planned.

"It can't be done. _Serenity_ is a big boat, but there's no where I could go that wouldn't have to be accessed by one of you at some time or another."

"Your cabin?" suggested Wash.

"And when I die," Mal heartlessly pointed out, "how do you get rid of my body?"

Almost jumping up and down in excitement, Kaylee suggested, "The shuttle! It has its own air supply and entrance." Sobering, she added, "And it can be jettisoned if we need to."

"No," Mal repeated.

"Captain," Shepherd Book softly reasoned, "either you get in that shuttle or I'll come out there and get you myself. I don't think you're in any condition to fight me."

"Or me," Zoe, Kaylee, Wash and Simon echoed.

Realizing he didn't have the time or energy to argue further, Mal reluctantly conceded, "I'll get in the shuttle, but no one is to come in there under any circumstance. And that's an order."

"Yes, sir," Zoe finally granted.

Kaylee nodded her head. "Yes, Cap'n."

Though it was getting more and more difficult to distinguish the blurry images as people, Mal saw Wash and Simon nod in silent agreement. Satisfied, he lurched to the shuttle's outside hatch. Inara was on business in its twin giving _Serenity_ a lopsided appearance. Mal hoped he would be gone by the time she returned. He knew how determined she could be. It would be impossible to keep her away.

Closing the hatch firmly behind him, Mal blindly stumbled to the radio. "Wash, I'm on, get us out of here."

"Aye, aye, Captain."  
His strength depleted, Mal sank to the floor relishing the feel of the cool bulkhead against his hot flesh. He knew he should secure the door leading into the ship and try to find some place more comfortable. However, his muscles refused to obey the commands from his brain.

When he was in the settlement, he had seen squads methodically enter each building. They would come out carrying a body. After throwing it on a bonfire, they would either re-enter the same dwelling, or move on to the next. The sight and smell were with Mal here. Even worse, was the knowledge that their efforts had been in vain. The men were as dead as the bodies they were destroying; they just didn't know it yet.

 

 

The only glimpse of the captain Simon could see through the port hole was not very reassuring. It looked as though the ill man had collapsed on the floor and was either unconscious, or close enough to make little difference. The reason Simon had become a doctor was to help people. He hated seeing anyone suffer, even this man who was such an enigma to him. All his life, Simon had found the sciences easy. Medicine had a logic that appealed to his structured upbringing. Malcolm Reynolds was anything except logical. He often appeared to have no sympathy for River's plight, yet had risked his life several times to save the siblings. Simon knew he and his sister owed their lives to their captain. As worried as he was about River if anything should happen to him, Simon knew he had a debt to pay.

Hefting the medical bag he had retrieved, Simon announced, "I'm going inside."

"We promised the captain we wouldn't," reminded Zoe.

"If we survive, I'll apologize for disobeying orders," Simon pledged, holding a hand up to authenticate his vow.

Her face stern, Zoe moved in front of the shuttle's entrance. A hand on the weapon strapped to her waist underlined her position. "The captain expects his orders to be followed."

"A dead man can't give orders."

"He wasn't dead when he issued them."

Frustrated, Simon snapped, "If I don't help him, he won't be giving any more. Is that what you want?"

"What I want isn't important." Zoe glanced into the shuttle. "He's the captain."

Grasping at straws, Simon said, "He's a captain whose mind could be affected by fever. He's not competent to give any orders."

"How can you be sure?"

"I can't, unless I examine him."

Confusion apparent on her face, Zoe clarified, "You want to disobey orders given by a man who may be too sick to understand the orders he's given?"

Repeating the statement in his head, Simon finally nodded, "That's right."

"You do realize," a smile curved Zoe's lips, "if you do save him, the captain's gonna kick both our butts from Central City to the border planets and back again?"

"So, we don't sit down for a month." Simon's answering grin faded. "Is it such a high price to pay to save his life?"

Zoe stepped away from the hatch. "No."

His hand on the handle, Simon caught Zoe's eyes with his own. "You will take care of River if anything happens?"

"We'll watch out for her," Wash answered, appearing from the bridge and putting an arm around his wife's waist.

Knowing River couldn't be in better hands Simon waved the couple away. "Even though I still think it's too late if it's an airborne virus, it would probably be safer if you weren't here when I open the door."

After a last glance into the shuttle, Zoe backed away. "Good luck, Doctor. And, thank you."

Due to his studies, Simon had little time to read the waves concerning the war. He had, however, treated a few veterans. Some liked to talk incessantly about their experiences, others wouldn't say a word. Yet, all were grateful for any kindness even if it didn't directly concern them. Simon had respected them, even those whose minds had been affected as well as their bodies. Since meeting Mal and Zoe, Simon's admiration had grown until he was in awe of the ex-soldiers.

His eyes seeking one last glimpse of his sister, Simon was surprised to feel a warm hand wrap around his, preventing him from opening the hatch. Shifting his gaze, he let it rest questioningly on Book. "Shepherd?"

"If there's a cure to be found for this terrible disease," Shepherd quietly reasoned, nodding towards the shuttle, "it won't be found in there. You'll need your equipment in the infirmary."

Trying to pull his hand free, Simon insisted, "I have to help the captain."

"You'll be more help to him out here."

Her loyalties obviously mixed, Kaylee said, "What Shepherd says is the truth, Simon."

Varying emotions warring inside him, Simon looked through the small port hole at Mal slumped against the far wall. The man's eyes were closed, his flesh a sickly gray. If it weren't for the shudders wracking the limp body, Simon would have believed Mal was already dead. "I can't let him die alone."

"He won't be alone, son." Shepherd eased Simon's hand off the handle and replaced it with his own. "I'll be with him."

"The captain don't share yer beliefs, Shepherd," reminded Zoe.

"He doesn't have to. I'm not helping him in hopes of making a convert. I want to help him because he's a good man."

"Even though he don't think so?"

"God does, that's good enough for me."

Listening to the exchange, Simon was ashamed at the relief flooding over him. He was a doctor, others lives were suppose to come before his own. Taking a deep breath, he argued, "The captain needs a doctor."

"I'm no doctor," conceded Shepherd, "but I've had some first-aid training."

"But - -"

"Besides," Shepherd smiled broadly, "I won't be disobeying an order. I never promised I wouldn't go in the shuttle."

Kaylee took Simon's hand. "Shepherd's right, Simon."

"Okay," Simon reluctantly conceded, handing his bag to the preacher. "Contact me if you have any questions."

His hand raised to shoulder level, Shepherd pledged, "Agreed. Now, I suggest you all move a safe distance away."

"We should get off this planet," Simon suggested.

Shepherd shook his head, "I should think the bridge will be far enough."

His gaze resting one last time on the captain, Simon backed away. Putting an arm around his sister's shoulders, he gently led her away.

"Burning death," whispered River.

Wondering if he was interpreting her words correctly, Simon associated them with the possibility the captain had a high fever. Worried by the frown creasing her brow he assured, "The captain will be all right."

"All dead. Not enough time."

Though he racked his brain, Simon could find no logical explanation for the disjointed statements, so he chose to ignore them. As they entered the bridge, Jayne quickly closed the door behind them.

"A shielded door may stop a bullet, Jayne. But it won't stop a virus," Simon wearily revealed.

"It might. How do you know it won't?"

"Three years of medical school."

Posturing, Jayne insisted, "That don't mean you know everything."

Though he wished the observation wasn't true, Simon knew it was, and he couldn't argue with the truth. However, when it came to medicine, he knew enough to know their hours could be numbered. He even knew their life expectancy could be counted in hours not days by the speed in which Mal had been struck down. He had left _Serenity_ a healthy man. Only three hours later, he was on death's door.

"Get us out of here, darling." Zoe put a hand on her husband's shoulder, gently pushing him into the pilot's seat.

Expertly flicking switches to activate the engines, Wash asked, "What course do I set?"

"The village."

Simon's directive overlapped Zoe's. "The Black."

Wash's gaze shifted between his wife and the physician. "One destination was all I wanted."

"Why the Black?" Zoe asked.

"Why the village?" countered Simon.

"The captain is sick - -"

"You want to avenge him?"

"I want to stop this disease from spreading any further," Zoe calmly contradicted. "It'll end with the captain or it will end with one of us. Either way, no other transport will carry it back to a populated planet."

Knowing what the answer would be but still needing it spoken out loud, Simon demanded, "What are you going to do?"

"Burn the village," Zoe emotionlessly revealed.

As _Serenity_ lifted off and flew the short distance to the only inhabited settlement, Simon crossed to look out the view port. Though he saw no movement below, he offered, "There could still be someone alive down there. They deserve a chance."

"All dead. Not enough time." River softly repeated the phrases she had spoken earlier.

For the second time, Simon ignored her and addressed Zoe. "What you're planning to do is murder."

"Yes."

Simon noticed even Wash appeared uncomfortable with his wife's solution. "We have an infected man too. What about us?"

"We'll go to the Black like you suggested." Zoe rested her hand on the butt of her weapon. "If the disease spreads to us, we'll destroy the ship. Either way, Doctor, it will end on this boat."

Even knowing Zoe was right Simon was horrified by the solution. "How do you intend to start the fire without exposing yourself?"

"The buildings are made of wood and mud. We start one on fire; it will spread to the rest."

Wondering if all soldiers were so matter of fact about death, Simon watched as Wash brought _Serenity_ down low enough to allow the heat of her engines to ignite the flimsy structures. Though obviously unhappy with his role in the plan, the pilot obeyed his wife's command. Simon realized he should be appreciating Wash's mastery of his craft. Even he knew there were few pilot's who had the skill to accomplish such a feat. But all Simon could think about was the possibility that people were being burned alive.

Turning away, Simon decided it was time to let the others do the jobs they had trained for while he did the same – find out what the disease was and discover a cure. Or, they could all end up like the villagers below.

 

 

Pulling some cushions off a bench, Shepherd laid them on the floor. With strength few had seen, his muscles concealed beneath his clerical attire, he gently lifted Mal and stretched him out on the makeshift bed. Panting slightly from the heavy load, he rested to catch his breath before continuing with his ministrations. He jumped when a hand wrapped around his wrist.

"What are you doing?" demanded Mal.

"Trying to make you comfortable."

The fingers tightened their grip. "In h-here? What are y-you doing in h-here?"

"You're obviously in no condition to help yourself," Shepherd pointed out, gently pulling his arm free.

Mal's hand flopped against the floor, directed by his anger. "I gave a d-direct order to stay away f-from me."

"I'm not part of your crew, Captain." Shepherd stopped the pounding fist before it sustained an injury and placed a blanket across the shivering form.

"Y-ya stopped bein' a p-passenger when ya s-stopped payin'."

"You can bill me."

"This isn't a j-joke, Shepherd." Mal tried to sit up but his effort failed. "You j-just signed your d-death warrant."

Sighing, Book confessed, "Either it was me or Simon. That boy's got a good head on his shoulders. Personally, I'd rather have him out there trying to find a cure, than in here mopping your sweaty brow."

"What, h-he didn't think my order applied to h-him?"

"He knew. He was willing to defy it to help you."

"The more I g-get to know that boy, the l-less I u-understand him."

"I think he feels the same way about you."

"All he has to u-understand is I'm the C-Captain, and I expect m-my orders to be obeyed."

Noticing how the conversation was draining what little energy Mal had left, Shepherd soothed, "We'll discuss this when there's a reason to discuss it."

"I t-think there's a _g-gorram_ reason to d-discuss it n-now." Mal pounded a fist into the cushion.

"Which will be mute if we both die." Shepherd wiped away the perspiration rolling down Mal's temples. "It can wait."

The pain in his throat agreeing with the preacher's diagnosis, Mal closed his eyes. "It isn't o-over."

"Merely postponed," agreed Shepherd.

Feeling too ill to continue the argument, Mal relaxed, secretly enjoying the Shepherd's kindhearted attention. The last time anyone had cared for him like this was when he was a small child. Even then, while his mother doted on him, his uncle was angered by what he called his wife's "coddling", certain it would make the boy weak. Mal had never agreed with his uncle's assessment. But he had still pushed his mother away. He regretted the act then, and he regretted it now. On the battlefield, he had learned love was necessary to survive no matter what form it took.

 

 

 _"Simon?"_

Leaving the latest slide under the microscope, Simon quickly crossed to the com unit that had been set up to give him direct communications with the shuttle. In this way, he was able to request the samples he needed to conduct his experiments. And, Shepherd could contact him when he needed assistance. "I'm right here, Shepherd," he said, wondering why they all called the man Shepherd as though it were his name rather than his profession.

 _"The captain's having a seizure."_

Hearing the panic in the normally dulcet voice, Simon was careful to keep his own composed. "It's not unusual with a fever as high as the captain's. Make sure there's nothing constrictive around his throat, and nothing he can hurt himself on. Once its run its course, give him some pregablin."

Sounding noticeably calmer, Shepherd reported, _"It's already abating."_

"Good." Almost afraid to ask, but knowing his research required the information, Simon inquired, "How are you feeling, Shepherd?"

"A little tired."

Listing the symptoms Mal had displayed upon his return from the village, Simon pressed, "No headache? Sore throat? Fever? Aching muscles?"

 _"My muscles hurt,"_ admitted Shepherd, _"but that could be from sitting on a cold floor."_

"How about the other symptoms I outlined?"

 _"I feel fine, otherwise."_

 __"Be sure you let me know if that changes."

 _"I've already promised I would, Doctor."_

 __Exasperation was audible in the cleric's tone. A rueful smile curved Simon's lips. Obviously, he was being over protective. He had always been that way with his little sister, never anyone else – until he became part of _Serenity's_ crew. Mal would probably laugh if he ever discovered how worried Simon was about him. Not just now because of the illness, but every time they went out on a "job".

 _"I'll contact you when I need you again, Simon."_

Embarrassed that he had let his mind wander when time was critical, Simon assured, "I'll be here."

Rubbing his face briskly to wake himself up, Simon tiredly returned to the slide he had placed under the microscope. What he saw lifted his spirits, and made him wish Shepherd was still on the line. It had been ten hours since Mal had returned to the ship. In that time, no one else had shown any signs of the disease. Yet, Mal had only been gone for four hours and had displayed the ailment upon his return. Which meant the illness had a short, very short, incubation period. If any of the rest of the crew had been exposed, some indication of it would have appeared by now. This was good news for the rest of them, even if it didn't help the captain.

Exhausted, but refusing to give in to his fatigue, Simon pulled the slide and replaced it with another. One of these samples had to give him the answers he was seeking.

 

 

It was so hot! Mal had never liked desert planets, avoiding them whenever possible. Being left naked in the middle of one, resulting in severe burns in places that rarely saw the sun had increased his aversion. So why, was he in one now? And why, did he have no memory of landing on such a world?

Something cool brushed across his forehead, moving down the right side of his face to his neck. The sensation was repeated on the other side of his face. When it disappeared, he whimpered desperately craving its return.

"Easy, Captain."

He knew that voice. His sluggish thoughts finally came up with a name, Shepherd Book.

"Would you like a drink of water?"

Realizing his mouth was as dry as the planet they were apparently visiting, Mal nodded, finding it impossible to form words around his raw, chapped lips. Memory returned with the action. He remembered the dead and the dying; the laborious trip back to _Serenity_ ; taking refuge in the shuttle; and Shepherd Book's compassionate care.

His head was lifted and a cup placed against his lips. Water trickled over the edge into his mouth. He savored the cool liquid before allowing it to roll down his throat. The resulting pain brought tears to his eyes. He heard an agonized moan. It took him a few seconds to realize he was the one who had issued it. When more water dribbled into his mouth, he tried to spit it out as he pushed the cup violently away.

"Simon."

There was desperation in the shepherd's voice that worried Mal.

 _"I'm here, Shepherd."_

Frightened the young physician had joined them in the shuttle Mal forced his eyes open. His head exploded when he turned to search the interior of the small vessel. Another agonized groan echoed around him as dry heaves contributed to his torment.

"Try not to move, Captain," warned Shepherd. "I need to talk to Simon."

Knowing any kind of verbal or physical acknowledgement would result in excruciating pain, Mal simply closed his eyes.

 _"Shepherd?"_

 __"I'm here," Book replied. "I tried to give the captain some water as you requested. It caused him so much pain, I was afraid he would have another seizure."

Another? Mal fearfully noted, he didn't remember having one. This was one case when he was glad his memory was a bit shoddy.

 _"He's dehydrated," Simon relayed. "You need to get some fluids into him."_

"He won't let me. He knocked the cup away," said Shepherd.

 _"Then, you'll have to start an IV. Can you do that?"_

"I think so."

 _"Maybe I should . . ."_

 __"I can do it," Shepherd confidently amended.

 _"I'll be here if you have any questions."_

Feeling the cool swipe of an alcohol swab on his left arm, Mal unconsciously tensed, waiting for the prick of a needle. It wasn't the first time he had been given an IV. He flinched as the sharp point pierced his flesh.

"I'm sorry," Shepherd apologized. "I'm not as good a doctor as I thought."

"I've n-not exactly been a m-model patient," Mal hoarsely whispered. "I'm sorry I've c-caused you so much t-trouble."

"You didn't ask to get sick, Captain."

"I wouldn't w-wish this on my worst e-enemy." Pausing, Mal amended, "I guess I wouldn't m-mind if Niska got it."

"The germ probably wouldn't survive."

Mal could hear the smile in Shepherd's voice. Despite their differences, he liked the cleric. Up until the battle for Serenity Valley, he had even shared some of the shepherd's beliefs. They had helped him survive many a torturous night and hellish day during the war. He wished they could still comfort him.

 

 

Resting his arm on his microscope, Simon closed his eyes and dropped his head. He had never been this exhausted, not even during his internship. However, there was no time to rest. Not if he hoped to keep Malcolm Reynolds alive.

"Simon?"

The fear he heard in Kaylee's voice made Simon realize his posture was anything but encouraging. Tapping a reserve of strength that was almost depleted, he raised his head. "It's all right, Kaylee. This is relief, not despair."

"Ya found somethin' ta save the Cap'n?"

Though he wanted to set her mind at ease, Simon knew he couldn't explain his discovery to each member of the crew separately. It would take more out of him than he had left. "Ask the others to meet me in the kitchen. I'll tell you all then."

The smile lighting her face slipping away, Kaylee nodded, "I'll git 'em."

Washing his hands and face with cool water, Simon felt refreshed enough to make the short walk to the kitchen. When he arrived, he was surprised to find everyone already sitting at the table waiting for him, even River. How Kaylee had delivered the news so quickly was beyond his tired brain to fathom.

"Kaylee said you had news, Doctor."

Though Zoe's voice was even with little inflection, Simon could see the tension she was trying to hide in the way she gripped her husband's hands with her own. Wash winced as if in pain but didn't shake her off. Speaking quickly to spare his audience, Simon announced, "We're no longer in danger of the illness spreading to the rest of us."

"How can ya be so sure?" Jayne suspiciously demanded.

"The degree I earned on Osiris in Capitol City, and the tests I just finished running." Simon wished he could put a little more sarcasm into his reply. Jayne always managed to rub him the wrong way. However, he was just too tired.

Gently kneading the finger-shaped bruises on her husband's hands, Zoe asked, "Did you discover what the illness is?"

"It's a mutated flu virus."

"Flu!" Jayne snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Is that all the _gorram_ he's got?"

"New strains of flue can be very deadly," Simon defended, wondering why he cared what Jayne thought. "On Earth that was in 1918, it killed more people than the world war that was being waged at the time. In the twenty-first century there was an outbreak of a virus they called the bird flu. It killed over a third of the population. Should I go on?"

Her soft voice blunting Simon's fury, Kaylee pointed out, "We saw what it did to the people of Green Briar."

"Is it going to kill Mal?" asked Wash, putting an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"I don't know," Simon admitted. "But he'll have a better chance in the infirmary than he does in that shuttle."

Rising, Wash said, "Then let's go get him."

Quickly crossing to block the exit, "Jayne growled, " _Dung ee-miao,_ are ya sure it's safe for the rest of us?"

"I'm sure." Simon fought to keep his temper. "According to the tests I ran, the captain stopped being contagious before he even reached _Serenity_. As deadly as the strain appears to be, it has a short incubation period."

Still skeptical, Jayne snapped, "He was only gone for about four hours."

"Anyone who became sick was only contagious for approximately two hours."  
"You mean," clarified Wash, "if the first person who got sick hadn't had contact with anyone else in those first few hours, no one else would have been infected?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Shaking his head in wonder and sadness, Wash growled, " _Wuo duhMA_ , let's go get the captain."

Spreading his arms to block the pilot's way, Jayne grumbled, "I still think it would be safer to leave Mal where he is."  
The gun was out of its holster and in Zoe's hand before the last word left Jayne's lips. "You can help us, or you can go to your room," she said. "Anything else and you can _gun HOE-tzebee DIO-se."_

 __His chin quivering, Jayne dropped his arms to his sides and stepped away. "If we get sick and die, don't forget I tried ta stop ya."

"With my dying breath, I'll grant you absolution," assured Wash, stepping through the vacated space.

Jayne's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Huh?"

 

 

At first, the voices didn't worry Mal. In the war, he had quickly learned which noises needed attention and which he could ignore. Though _Serenity_ was a large ship with a small crew they could be remarkably loud on occasion. Generally, he would listen long enough to make certain no one was in danger of shooting someone else, before falling back to sleep. He had already determined there was no anger or fear in the different tones. Yet, something prevented him from following his usual pattern.

Taking a quick inventory, he realized his entire body ached. It felt like he had knife blades in his throat, his head throbbed as though someone had taken a gun butt to it, and he was so hot he was surprised he hadn't burst into flames. Was it Unification Day again? Had he gotten drunk and been in another fight?

Though his aching head made it impossible for him to concentrate, the image of bodies dumped onto a huge bonfire was so real he could smell the acrid odor of burning flesh. In his mind, he saw corpses sprawled in a street devoid of any signs of battle. There were no gaping wounds, no missing limbs – no blood.

Despite the pain, he forced himself to coordinate the sounds so he could ascertain his location. As memory returned, fear filled him, causing his heart to beat against his ribs with a force that made him afraid it would burst out of his chest.

"Easy, Captain, everything's all right now."

Though he wanted to believe Simon's comforting words, Mal knew it was a lie. Opening his eyes, he saw his crew positioned around his bed. Not the pallet Shepherd Book had fashioned in the shuttle, but a real bed in the infirmary. Everything wasn't all right. He had killed his entire crew. He was supposed to take care of them, and he had failed.

His stomach had long since purged itself of its contents. Wracked by dry heaves, Mal tried to push away the hands reaching out to help him. The pain in his head increased, threatening to overwhelm his every thought.

"Mal, you need to calm down before you make yourself worse."

The surprise of hearing Inara's voice drove all the fight out of Mal. If his eyes hadn't been so dry, he was certain they would be filled with tears. The companion had been with a client when he became ill. She had been safe. Now, he had killed her as surely as though he had shot her in the heart.

"Captain." Simon grabbed Mal's chin, forcing him to make eye contact. "You are no longer contagious. In fact, you stopped being infectious before you reached the ship."

"I haven't killed y-you a-all?" croaked Mal.

"The only one here at risk of dying is you."

Mal was sure he was imaging things when he saw genuine fear on the boy's face. Afraid River had been injured Mal pulled free of the doctor's grip and looked around. A soft sigh emptied his lungs when he saw the young girl inspecting some of the physician's instruments on one of the counters.

"Captain, you're very sick," counseled Simon.

The movement and lights making him dizzy and nauseous, Mal closed his eyes. He wasn't worried. Simon was doing enough of that for both of them. The doctor would never understand that Mal's greatest concern wasn't for himself – it was for his crew. As it should be to anyone who called himself captain.

 

 

Simon rubbed the sleep from his eyes, feeling remarkably refreshed. He had only managed to spend five hours in his bunk, but apparently it was enough to replenish his reserves. Stretching his sore muscles, he entered the infirmary. Noting it was Wash's turn to attend to Mal's needs, he asked, "How is the captain?"

"No change," said Wash, rinsing out a cloth in fresh water and slowly wiping Mal Reynolds perspiring face. "Are you sure this is helping?"

"His temperature hasn't risen since we started doing it."

"It hasn't dropped either."

"The fever didn't respond to any of my drugs. It just kept rising. Now it's stopped." Crossing to check on his patient, Simon demanded, "You tell me, is it worth it?"

Looking down at the man he often clashed with, yet considered a friend, Wash nodded, "Yeah, it's worth it."

"Are we still in deep space?" Though he wasn't good at small talk, Simon had been making an effort to improve. This seemed the perfect opportunity to try his technique.

"After picking up Inara, I kept us close to Persephone in case we need the hospital."

"Let's hope we don't." Simon shuddered, remembering what little he had seen of the primitive planet's medical facilities.

When Mal moaned, Wash insisted, "There's got to be more we can do for him. He's wasting away."

"I know," said Simon, his training making him aware of how uncomfortably true the pilot's observation was. They just didn't have the equipment Simon needed to develop a cure for the new strain of flu. The only thing he could do was hope Mal had the strength to fight this battle until it was won. If he was a betting man, Simon would put his money on the captain. The man didn't seem to know the meaning of the word quit.

 

 

Fingers gently massaged Mal's temples, running lightly across his forehead and down the side of his face, before returning to where they had started. The stabbing pain in his head had eased, allowing coherent thought to take its place. The first thing he recognized was how much his entire body trembled with a dull pain. He didn't remember being in a fight, but that was the only explanation he could come up with to account for the way he felt.

The second thing that became clear to him was the heat embracing his body. It was so hot it was difficult to breathe. It took all the strength he had to push off the heavy covering swathing him from neck to toe.

"Stop that, Mal."

A hand firmly restrained his, as the voice continued to admonish him.

"You need to keep warm."

It was as though a switch had been turned on in his brain. Mal knew that voice; he knew where he was, and why he hurt. "No," he croaked. Opening his eyes, he stared at Inara's beautiful features, seeing the concern she could not hide. "You shouldn't be here."  
Pain briefly flashed across Inara's face. "I'll get someone to take my place."

"No!" Realizing she had misunderstood him, Mal clarified, "No one should be near me."

Retrieving a wet cloth, Inara wiped Mal's sweat-coated flesh. "It's all right. Don't you remember? Simon diagnosed your illness and discovered you're no longer contagious."

"He could be wrong," Mal insisted.

"He's not," soothed Inara. "But even if he were, it's too late now. We've been taking turns trying to get your fever down."

A vague memory of Simon and the others carrying him from the shuttle played across Mal's mind. Had he fought them? He seemed to remember hearing the sound of flesh meeting flesh, and someone crying out in pain. "Did I hit someone?"

"Jayne," confirmed Inara, a smile curving her lips. "He has a very colorful black eye."

"It's not his first."

"He's taken refuge in his room." Rinsing out her cloth, Inara continued, "He's embarrassed to have been knocked out by a man who was practically unconscious."

"I'm sure Wash isn't letting him forget it either."

"Not for a minute," Inara verified.

"Where are we?"

Inara laid the cool cloth on Mal's heavily perspiring neck, before dragging it across his chest. "In the Black, about a day out of Persephone."

"Everyone safe?" Mal's eyelids fluttered as he fought to keep them open.

"Yes, everyone's fine." One hand expertly massaging Mal's temple, Inara suggested, "Why don't you rest? It's the best medicine for you, right now."

"I think I will," mumbled Mal. "Wake me if there are any problems."

"Sleep," Inara quietly urged.

Against his will, Mal complied. He was angry she hadn't acknowledged his order. It was an issue he would have to remember to confront her with – when he could keep his eyes open for more than two minutes at a time.

 

 

"Fire. Burning."

Tired of hearing River repeat the same words over and over, Simon turned away from the hypodermic he was preparing to confront his sister. When he saw her sprawled next to Mal on the narrow bed, he froze in momentary shock. Regaining his senses, Simon quickly crossed to her side. Gently, but firmly, gripping her upper arms, he pulled the troubled girl away from his fevered patient. "Mei-mei, if he catches you laying next to him, the captain's liable to set us both on fire."

"Fire. Burning."

"You've said that," snapped Simon. Forcing himself to count to ten, he dispassionately explained, "The captain is sick. He has a high fever which is what makes it seem like he's burning."

"Die. All dead."

"No, he's not going to die and neither are we."

"Is the Cap'n worse, Simon?"

His attention shifting to the nervous young engineer standing in the doorway, Simon assured, "He's not worse."

"But he ain't better either," said Kaylee.

There was no question in the remark, making it easier to confirm its accuracy. "No, he's not better. We have to be patient."

Her gaze fixed on the pale face of her captain, Kaylee asked, "How long did it take them folks in Green Briar ta die?"

"For most, I would expect a matter of hours."

Counting on her fingers, Kaylee calculated, "It's been almost four days since the Cap'n took sick. So that's good, ain't it?"

Simon wished he was a better liar. It would be so much easier to tell the trusting soul that her captain would be all right. But if Mal didn't recover, Kaylee would hate him for the deception. He had endured many hardships since rescuing his sister. But he could not bear to lose Kaylee's friendship. Reluctantly, Simon revealed, "Our bodies aren't designed to sustain such a high fever for extended periods."  
"What are you saying?" Kaylee's eyelashes were damp from unshed tears.

Taking a deep breath, Simon quietly revealed, "Even if the captain lives, he may wish he hadn't."

"Now ya ain't makin' any sense." Anger stemmed Kaylee's display of weakness.

Simon turned away so she couldn't see his face. "There could be brain damage."

"Inara said he talked ta her jus' fine."

"That was almost two days ago. He hasn't been conscious since." Gathering his courage, Simon swiveled to face her. "The next time he wakes up, Mal may not be the man we once knew."  
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Kaylee snapped, "You'd love that wouldn't ya. Ya never did get along with the Cap'n."

"What! No!" Simon tried to put a comforting hand on the agitated girl's shoulder, but she pulled away. Reluctantly, he admitted, "We might not always see eye to eye, but I would never wish him ill. I'm a doctor; I save lives not take them."

"Tell that ta Niska's men."

Appalled by the accusation, Simon backed away. The memory of his role in Mal's rescue from the sadistic crime lord still made him wince. Yet, if the scenario was repeated tomorrow, or the next day, or a month from now, he wouldn't do anything differently. Mal Reynolds was protecting River. For that, Simon was willing to give up a part of his soul. Before Simon could formulate a suitable reply that wouldn't destroy his relationship with Kaylee, she quickly apologized.

"I'm sorry, Simon. I didn't mean . . ." Kaylee tailed off. Ducking her head, she wiped her running nose on her sleeve.

His indignation disappearing with the halting confession, Simon retrieved some tissues and pressed them into her hand. "We're all tired and scared. It's easy to say things we don't mean."

"No fire. No burning."

"River, not now," wearily pleaded Simon, frustrated by his sister's interruption. It seemed to happen every time he and Kaylee experienced an intimate moment.

Ignoring her brother, River repeated, "No fire. No burning."

The angry words on Simon's lips never found voice when he noticed River was patting Mal Reynolds' face. Crossing to her side, one of Simon's hands rested on his patient's forehead as the other reached for a thermometer. Waiting for the instrument to confirm what touch was already telling him, he sighed. "The fever's broken."

"I'll tell the others," Kaylee happily proclaimed, backing towards the door.

"Don't tell them there could be brain damage," instructed Simon. "Worrying won't change what has happened."

"I know the Cap'n, he'll be fine," Kaylee confidently predicted.

As the happy young girl slipped away with River following in her wake, Simon sadly regarded his patient. "For once, I hope I'm wrong and she's right. You delight in making me appear incompetent, Captain. Since a leopard can't change his spots, I'm guessing you'll be purring soon."

 

 

This time when Mal woke up, he knew where he was and why he was in the infirmary. He was just surprised to discover that every muscle in his body still ached. It was obvious his fever was gone, so why hadn't the other afflictions associated with the illness disappeared as well? When he had been wounded in the war a few stitches and a few pills to mask his pain had returned him to the battle in a matter of hours. Right now, it was taking every effort he had to lift his eyelids.

When he finally accomplished the feat, he found himself staring into Kaylee's frightened face. Knowing the love affair she had with _Serenity_ , he anxiously tried to demand an explanation. He was only able to push a single word past his lips, his arid throat closed around the rest. "Kaylee?"

"Cap'n, you know who I am?" Tears rolled down the young girl's cheeks.

Trying, but failing, to lift a hand to wipe away the signs of distress Mal grew more concerned. "Serenity?"

"She's fine, Cap'n."

As his muscles relaxed, Mal realized he had unconsciously increased the tension as his fear mounted. He was paying for the simple action. The pain threatened to return him to the oblivion he had so recently exited. Fighting the response, he moaned.

Hands wiping at the tear streaks on her dirty face, Kaylee said, "I'll get Simon."

Mal wanted to stop her, but his voice wouldn't obey the commands from his brain. His hands and arms were equally unresponsive. Frustrated, the only sound he could make was another moan. He realized the cry wasn't as low as he had hoped when Simon entered the room spewing platitudes.

"Easy, Captain, just relax, you're going to be all right."

At this very moment, Mal was having difficulty believing the statement. In truth, he didn't feel a whole lot better than when he had first become ill. When Simon lifted his head and placed a straw in his mouth, he didn't even have the strength to suck up the refreshing fluid inside the cup. A mew of disappointment turned into another moan.

When Simon took out the straw and raised his head further, Mal groaned at the agony of pulling muscles and unrelieved thirst. Lost in his misery it took him a few seconds to notice that Simon had placed the edge of the cup against his chapped lips, and was slowly allowing the water to trickle down his throat. It was heaven and hell at the same time. The meager flow didn't come close to quenching his thirst. When the cup was tipped up and pulled away, Mal groaned in discontent.

"We don't want to over due it and make you sick again, Captain."

Mal wasn't sure he agreed with Simon's decision. But there was little he could do to alter the situation. As Simon gently lowered his head down to the pillow Mal croaked, "Pills?"

"No."

Angry, Mal insisted, "Help."

"They eventually do more damage than good. You're better off allowing your body to heal at its own pace. Since I'm your doctor, that's what we're going to do."

Though he tried to glare at the boy, Mal wasn't sure he had pulled it off. "New. … doctor."

"Afraid you're stuck with me."

Mal wanted to show how unhappy the prospect made him, but he knew he had failed when Simon smiled.

"Sleep," Simon suggested. "The more rest you get the sooner you'll be able to kick my butt."

Though he stubbornly wanted to defy Simon's instructions, Mal's eyelids had a mind of their own. The last thing he saw was a broad smile on Simon's face. He snorted in disgust, vowing to regain his strength and administer his revenge as soon as possible.

 

 

Finding the food on his plate repulsive, Simon tried to hide his displeasure. Shepherd Book had worked hard to make this meal. It wasn't his fault their stores were so depleted the attempt was doomed to fail before he even started. Though Simon knew it would anger Mal, thus hampering his recovery, they would have to put into Persephone soon to replenish their supplies. Mal had wanted to wait until he was well enough to take command before they made port again. It was clear they could not wait that long.

When River sprang from her seat, Simon partially rose to follow. He did not relish the task of trying to convince his sister that she needed to eat the unappetizing meal whether she wanted to or not.

He had barely locked his knees when River reappeared in the entrance with one of Mal Reynold's arms draped around her shoulders. The fact had barely registered in Simon's brain before Zoe rose to lend her captain further support.

Angered by the man's stubbornness Simon returned to his meal. Though he had forcefully reiterated that the invalid wasn't strong enough to leave his room, Mal obviously had other ideas. It gave Simon no satisfaction to be proven right. Mal's pale face was coated with sweat. The only thing keeping him on his feet were the strong, young bodies under his arms.

Falling into his customary seat at the head of the table, Mal glared at Simon. "Don't say I told ya so."

"I wasn't going to." Simon held his hands up in surrender.

"Yes, you were."

"Yeah, I was." Simon didn't even try to hide a triumphant smile. "I think I have the right."

Exhaustion clearly evident, Mal leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, I guess you do."

"Do you mind if I savor this moment, Captain? It may never happen again."

" _Tyen shiao-duh._ I can guarantee it won't."


End file.
